Sometimes, Santa Needs Help
by windscryer
Summary: Shawn and Juliet have to work on Christmas Eve. Then Shawn decides to pull double duty and help Santa with a special case. Shules.


Disclaimer: My Christmas gift to all of you would have been an actual Shules kiss if I was in charge. Or at least another Christmas special. Possibly both. *checks * Nope. I see nothing on the schedule. Guess they're not mine.

This was actually originally a part of my SSFE fic on Psychfic, but it didn't really fit with the other half of the fic so I rewrote that and made this a standalone.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve.

No snow, of course, since this was SoCal, but it was chilly enough to warrant jackets. Especially at something-after-eleven-pm.

And instead of snuggling under a blanket with Jules, or sipping hot cocoa, or even caroling, he was freezing his fanny off at a crime scene.

Shawn sighed and looked around, hoping something obvious he could pretend to hear from the spirits would jump out at him.

He kicked lightly at an empty beer bottle at his feet. So far, nothing was jumping.

"O'Hara, go back to the station and see what you can pull up on our vic," Lassiter said, pulling Shawn's attention away from the bottle. He looked up to see they'd finished their survey of the body.

Shawn had taken a quick glance, but hadn't lingered there. It was messy and he didn't _need_ to keep looking. Perfect memory or not, he'd be seeing that image in his head for some time.

Why the hell did people do stuff like that to each other? And on Christmas Eve, no less. He shook his head. He just didn't understand people sometimes.

"Spencer, those spirits of yours have anything to say?" Lassie asked.

Shawn shook his head again. "Not unless 'It's frickin' freezing out here, Mr. Bigglesworth!' counts."

Lassiter just stared until Shawn sighed.

"No, Lassie. Nothing. But maybe if I go with Jules to the station . . .?" he suggested, trying not to sound _too_ hopeful.

Lassiter's breath fogged in front of his face as he exhaled.

"All right. Let me know if you turn up anything." He went over to supervise the search for evidence, leaving Shawn and Juliet to start back to her car.

"Sorry about this, Shawn," Juliet apologized. "I was really hoping that I could be on call for _one_ little holiday without being summoned."

"Nah, it's okay," he said, wrapping an arm around her. He'd discovered back in November that was one of the perks of being in a relationship with her. She was like a little furnace, and boyfriend status meant he could snuggle up any time he wanted.

Mostly.

But she wasn't reminding him they were at work, so he assumed she didn't mind.

"As long as I can spend it with you, I don't mind much what we're doing. Ooh! Should we stop for mochaccinos?" he asked. "Maybe some donuts?" He checked his watch. "The hot light is on at Krispy Kreme right now . . ." he said hopefully.

She chuckled and nodded. "Sure, Shawn. We can stop for coffee and donuts." She sighed and glanced back over her shoulder. "Not like we're in any sort of a rush at this point," she added softly.

He grimaced and used the arm he had around her shoulders to bring her attention back forward.

"Hey now. There's nothing you could have done to stop this, Jules. But you _can_ make sure the person responsible pays for it." He hugged her close and kissed her head. "You can bring them justice."

She sighed, breath pluming in the air. "Yeah. I just . . ."

"I know," he said. "I know."

Ten minutes later they were seated at her desk, cinnamon-dusted, whipped cream-topped mochaccinos in front of them and donuts with tiny Christmas tree sprinkles on the edge of the desk. The box of a dozen was half empty, but they'd decided to share the wealth at the station and bought enough for the rest of their poor colleagues forced to work tonight.

Juliet was running down what they knew about their vic, but coming up empty so far. At least on anything useful. Bartholomew Toolesworth had been off the grid so to speak for over a decade, a handful of vagrancy charges and a public intoxication the only official signs of his life in the last ten years.

She furrowed her fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp, then looked up at Shawn, who was frowning in the direction of the front door.

An officer was bringing in another candidate for the drunk tank, one of the homeless guys who committed a crime to have a warm place to sleep for the night it looked like.

She was about to tell Shawn she was going to call Lassiter and tell him they had nothing and see if he wanted them to stay or come in early, when Shawn stood and hurried over to the officer and his companion.

"Hold it—" Shawn said, one hand rising to his temple. He gave the homeless man—kid really, terror paling his cheeks under the thick layer of dirt and grime caking them—a thorough scan.

"Officer, may I?" he said, reaching a hand for the kid's arm.

Juarez had no real vested interest in seeing the kid in lock up, and, after five years, few members of the Santa Barbara police force questioned Shawn when he was working.

"Sure," Juarez said, glancing to Juliet who approached.

She nodded at his look. "I've got him, Juarez, thanks."

Juarez nodded and headed for the break room to see if there were any donuts left.

Shawn's hand ghosted behind the kid's elbow as he guided him away from the processing station, Juliet pacing on the other side, senses alert for any trouble from the kid.

"It's uh, cold out there tonight, huh?" Shawn said.

The kid gave Shawn a look like he was a complete moron.

Shawn just smiled briefly, then gestured to the chair at Juliet's desk. "Have a seat."

A suspicious glance—including a lingering pause on the box of donuts—for the seat and Juliet, then he sunk down to slouch on the chair.

"You hungry?" Shawn asked.

Another dumb look was sent Shawn's way.

He chuckled. "Help yourself," he said, waving at the box of donuts.

The kid glanced at Juliet again, but she said nothing, content for now to let Shawn run the show.

The kid gave the box of donuts a longing look, shifting in his seat, then mumbled,"No thanks."

Shawn frowned, then smacked his forehead. "Oh, *duh*." He held out a hand and wiggled his fingers. "Jules?"

She frowned at him.

"Handcuff keys. He can't reach the donuts."

"Oh. Right." She dug her ring out and motioned for the kid to stand and turn.

He did, warily, glance shooting between the two of them.

She freed his hands and he rubbed at his wrists, then sat back down again, snagging a donut and eating half of it in one bite.

Shawn tugged another chair over and sat on it backwards, resting his arms on the back. "Do you like hot cocoa? Or would you prefer coffee?" His nose wrinkled. "I'd recommend the cocoa. They've become sort of immune to the effects of normal coffee around here and brew it like moonshine."

A snort of laughter was startled out of the kid and quickly smothered by the second bite of his donut.

Shawn grinned and looked up at Juliet.

"Babe, can you get us some cocoa?"

She arched an eyebrow at the endearment—a gentle reminder of their location—but the grin didn't lessen in the slightest.

"Sure," she said after a moment, giving up on his never-ending training for now.

"Thanks!" He turned back to the kid as she headed off to the break room to see if there were any packets of cocoa left. It was likely since there weren't many drinkers of the softer drink.

She prepared it, taking her time, knowing that Shawn was working his charm on the kid, getting him to loosen up and open up.

She didn't know why, yet, but she trusted that it was for a reason. Hopefully not 'boredom'.

Sure enough by the time she returned and set the steaming styrofoam cup on the edge of her desk by the kid's arm, he was talking to Shawn, still nervous, but much less so than before.

At her return some of the tension returned, but Shawn just said, "Abby and I are still friends, of course. But we figured out that was all we were. And now I have Jules." He smiled up at her and she returned it without thought.

"So, does that get you perks?" the kid asked—and boy when he talked you could hear how young he was. He looked eighteen or nineteen, but if you washed the streets off of him and put him in different clothes he was probably no more than fifteen or sixteen. "Working with them and dating a cop?"

Juliet's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?" she demanded.

"Easy, Jules," Shawn murmured, resting a hand on her back. "Have a seat."

He turned back to the little snot as she retook her seat with a glare.

"How about we talk about what you saw tonight?"

The kid stiffened like someone'd just stuck a live wire to his skin. His eyes dropped to the ground and he shuffled in his seat.

Once he had his mask of insolent stoicism in place, he looked up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Shawn's smile didn't falter, his voice stayed easy. "Sure you do. The murder out by the Struger Shipping warehouse." When the kid looked ready to bolt, Shawn just continued, though Juliet readied herself to give chase.

"It's okay, we don't think you did it. In fact, I know you didn't."

The suspicious gaze settled back on Shawn.

"Then you can't keep me," he said.

"Not for that," Juliet said, "but Officer Juarez brought you in for some reason . . ."

Shawn held up a hand. "Look, Kevin, you're not in trouble. Well, you are, but we can make that go away. You've seen _Law and Order_, right?"

Kevin nodded once.

"We can cut you a deal. The vagrancy charges will vanish into thin air, if you tell us what you saw."

"Shawn—" Juliet started to interrupt, but he put a hand on her leg and squeezed, though he never took his eyes off of Kevin.

Who swallowed. "I— I dunno. I mean, it's not so bad in here, you know?"

Shawn shook his head. "This is no place to spend Christmas Eve, Kevin. We're here for work. You should be at home though. With your family."

Kevin looked away with a snort. "Yeah, whatever."

"They miss you, Kevin," Shawn said gently.

Kevin snorted, but he also blinked and swiped a hand across his eyes, a telltale shininess still there afterward.

"Yeah?" he said. "They miss me so much they kicked me out?"

"Parents are dumb sometimes, Kevin. And, despite what they try to convince you, they're not perfect."

Kevin snorted again, but the tears were still there and Juliet felt her hostility toward him soften.

"Your sister misses you too."

Kevin's eyes were just a little angry when he looked back at Shawn. "What the hell do you know about my sister?" He shot to his feet. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

Shawn rose too, but it was still calm, like his voice when he spoke. "I'm a psychic. That's why I work with the police. I consult with them. Kevin, your sister misses you a lot. Your aura is . . ." His fingers clutched at the air. ". . . it's boiling with her sadness. That's why you're not as happy as you thought you would be, living on the streets out from under your parents' rules.

"But it's not just her, no." He reached a hand out and hovered a few inches from Kevin's head, following when Kevin shied away.

"Your mom, too. And your dad. Look," he said, dropping his hand when Kevin snorted again. "I know you don't believe me, but it's true. They miss you. And if you went home, they'd welcome you with open arms."

A fleeting moment of naked want crossed Kevin's face.

He looked at Shawn uncertainly. "You . . . you really think it's that easy?" he said, trying to sound tough but failing.

Shawn's hand dropped to Kevin's shoulder. "No," he said, shaking his head. "But it's a lot easier than the way you're living right now."

Kevin's shoulders dropped as a sigh rushed out.

"Okay, fine. I'll go home."

"Uh," Shawn said, gripping Kevin's shoulder and holding him in place. "Remember the vagrancy charges? I can't make those go away unless you work with me."

Kevin sagged. "I— I didn't see anything." His tough exterior was gone, worn down by Shawn's persuasive words, and now he just looked tired and scared.

"Kevin, I know you're scared, buddy. But if you tell us what you saw you don't have to be. The guy who you saw kill will go to jail and you can go home. You won't have to worry about him anymore."

Kevin pondered this and then Shawn spoke up once more. "If you don't tell us though, we can't stop him. And tomorrow you'll go back on the streets. And if he knows you saw him—"

Kevin's head shot up, his eyes wide, his throat working convulsively.

"He— But—"

"Just tell us what you saw, Kevin. We can help you if you tell us what you saw."

Kevin's eyes stayed fixed on Shawn, then flicked to Juliet, seeming to just remember she was there now.

She dared to speak, gentling her voice. "He can't hurt you if he's behind bars, Kevin. And if he murdered someone, he'll be behind them for a long time—maybe the rest of his life."

Kevin's gaze fell again. "Okay," he said quietly. "Okay."

Shawn smiled. and squeezed his shoulder. "Good. Good job, Kevin."

o.o

An hour later they'd gotten his statement, called Carlton with the information on their suspect and his probable location, and now were waiting for the final word from the DA's office on whether they could work out a deal for Kevin.

Not that it was likely to be rejected. Dropping the vagrancy charges to get a murderer was a pretty easy deal to make.

Shawn had vanished, leaving Kevin sitting at Juliet's desk eating his third donut and draining a fourth cup of cocoa.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, but he seemed to be doing okay. The stress had drained away and he looked tired and young.

She bit her lip and focused on the screen. She wanted to ask why he'd thought the streets were a better alternative to his life, but it wasn't really her business.

"You say you're a psychic?" a woman's voice said and Kevin startled and splattered cocoa all over himself as his cup tumbled from his hands.

"Shit!" he cursed and Juliet stared at him for a moment, before her eyes went to Shawn and the man and woman he was escorting.

"Yes, I consult with the department on occasion. And tonight my psychic vibes led me to someone I think you know."

The man grunted, face set in stern lines. "I doubt it. We don't exactly associate with—" he stopped cold when Kevin rose and turned.

The three of them stared in shock for a moment before the woman spoke. "Kevin?"

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as tears gathered. She turned briefly to her husband to see shock written on his face, then turned back to Kevin.

"Hi," he said hesitantly. He coughed. "Um—" Whatever he had planned to say next was cut off when his mother—and a heartbeat later his father—engulfed him in a hug.

"Oh Kevin," she breathed. "Oh my baby boy."

She peppered his face with kisses, ignorant of his filthy state as only a desperate mother could be.

Shawn smiled and joined Juliet where she'd stood up, watching the reunion.

She bumped his shoulder so he looked to her. "You're really something, you know that?"

He shrugged and looked away, blushing. "Just trying to spread a little Christmas spirit, Jules."

Her grin widened. "I think you got it right on the nose."

His reply was cut off when Kevin's mother swarmed him with a hug. "Thank you!" she said, pulling him down so she could kiss his cheek. "Thank you so much!"

Shawn floundered and did his best to not embarrass himself as he freed himself from her embrace. "You're welcome, Mrs. Barton. Just, uh, just doing my job." He smiled again and deftly returned her to her son's side.

Mrs. Barton responded by hugging her son, who was looking exasperated by the attention and yet grateful for it.

"I don't know what to say," Mr. Barton said to Shawn, shaking his hand.

"I'm just happy I could help," Shawn said. "Really."

"Thank you," Mrs. Barton said again. Her husband and son pulled her away before she could attack Shawn again, thankfully.

They left the station and it was mere minutes later that Carlton showed up, another vagrant in handcuffs.

"Found him right where you said he'd be," Carlton said, handing the man off to the booking officer. "Good job, Detective. Spencer."

"Well," Shawn said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "We're done, right?"

Carlton mused that over for a moment. "Yeah. Paperwork can wait, I guess."

Juliet's eyes widened in surprise.

"Consider it your Christmas present, O'Hara," he said gruffly. "Now go home."

She wasn't going to question him. "Goodnight, Carlton. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he repeated.

"Merry Christmas, Lassie!" Shawn said.

"Go away, Spencer."

Juliet grabbed his hand and tugged him away before Carlton changed his mind.

"And to all a good night!" Shawn called as she pulled him through the door.

* * *

Review, plz & thx! :D


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